Their Love Will Conquer
by kismet-wayfinder
Summary: Ron has always considered that Hermione would be his girl. Occurences throughout the years between Harry and Hermione lead things down toward a very different path indeed. Can the three of them survive the circumstances?
1. Chapter 1: Flinch

**I don't own the Harry Potter franchise. Believe it!**_**  
>This will be a series of one-shot fics. They won't be back-to-back like a chapter story, but each story oneshot will follow a chronological order. Thanks for reading!<br>**_

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><p>"I take it Ron's still ignoring me because he's a gigantic arse?"<p>

Harry Potter settled into his chair by the fire in the Gryffindor Common Room with a perturbed look on his face as he stared into the flames of the fireplace, his right hand balled into a fist at the edge of the armrest. Sitting down in a chair alongside him, Hermione Granger cautiously reached out and placed her own hand atop his, and it slowly, but surely relaxed from its coiled state, flatting out against the arm of the chair instead.

"I'm sorry," the brown-eyed girl said to him in a sad tone of voice, keeping her hand atop his. "I tried to convince him to come study with us after hours, but he shrugged off the idea of it. Again. I don't know why I keep trying."

"I don't know, either," Harry answered her at once, still looking on into the fireplace. "I know it bothers you when he blows you off like that, even if it's just over me."

"_Just_ over you?" Hermione repeated back, her brow creasing. "Harry, you're not a, a… _just_ anything. And besides, Ron can be discontent and _stupid_ about this whole thing all he wants. _Oh, woe is me, I wasn't entered into a death-trap tournament_." Then glancing at Harry's sideways look at her, the witch added, "Er, I'm sure it won't be a death trap for you, though, not if you study up enough on the tasks, Harry."

"Who cares about studying?" he replied, his eyes returning to rest on the flames. "Well, who other than you? When one of your best friends is being a prat over something you didn't even do, and the other one pities you for it on top of it-"

"Now, _Harry-_"

"Don't try to tell me you _don't_ pity me," Harry interrupted her, as she'd interrupted him, moving his hand out from beneath hers as he again balled it into a fist. "Always trying to get he or I to resolve things with one another."

"Sorry for trying to help," the witch muttered defensively, rolling her eyes. "_Boys_."

"This is not about us being boys, it's about Ron being stupid and refusing to listen to me," Harry snapped back.

Standing up from her chair, Hermione huffed out an uneven breath, before saying, "Well, I'll be off to bed then. I'll study tomorrow during breaks."

"Why can't we study right now?" Harry demanded to know.

"Because who can study when their head is being bitten off?" Hermione answered him in a raised, stung tone of voice.

Frowning as he looked up at her, the bespectacled fourteen year old locked eyes with his friend for a moment, before softening his expression, a look of regret coming onto his face instead of anger or annoyment.

"I… Hermione, I'm sorry for being a jerk to you just now. I just feel too… overwhelmed lately. But I'm sorry." Reaching upward and taking her hand, tugging at it, he added, "Please sit back down. Don't leave on account of me acting like a prat."

Looking down at her friend as he continued to hold onto her hand, Hermione finally relented and indeed took her seat once more in a chair alongside his, gently releasing his hand as she folded her arms across her bosom. "Even with the fire," she said. "It's still a bit chilly in here."

"Yeah, kind of," Harry agreed, before getting up and moving over to a chair at the other side of the Common Room; he returned seconds later with a blanket that had been abandoned on one of the other seats, unfolding it to drape it over his friend.

Smiling, Hermione, snuggling up beneath it and said, "Thanks, Harry. But, what about you? Is there no other blanket?"

"I don't see one," the wizard replied, his eyes briefly scanning the room. "It's alright. I'll be fine."

"No, no, come on," Hermione said, standing up and taking the blanket with her as she walked over to the nearby couch, nodding her head in its direction to motion that Harry should follow after her. "We'll share the blanket on the couch. It'll be easier to study there anyway."

"Well, okay then," Harry said to her, also moving to make his way over to the couch as Hermione did.

Plopping down simultaneously on the cushions, the pair spread the blanket across both themselves, and then Hermione took out her wand and pointed it over to a table at the other side of the room. "_Accio_ books."

Watching as a small pile of textbooks floated mid-air across the room, zooming in closer to the couch until they finally landed on Hermione's lap, Harry smiled. She was brilliant, but still had her lazy moments, too, like any other witch or wizard or muggle.

"Which subject shall we start with?" she asked aloud as she spread the books into neat rows on either of their laps, as they sat side by side, before answering herself, "Charms? Yes, Charms."

Shrugging slighty, Harry said, "Sure. We have to work on our _Obscuro_ spell anyway for tomorrow, right?"

"Right," Hermione agreed, before pointing her wand directly at Harry, who flinched.

Sighing and again rolling her eyes, the witch said, "Harry, do you even know what _Obscuro does_?"

"Blindfolds? It blindfolds the person it's used on, yeah. Yes. Definitely that. I think..."

Closing her eyes as if feigning a wince, Hermione said, "_Yes_, correct - so then why are you flinching at the thought of being hexted by it?"

"I don't know," Harry replied with a shrug. "You see a wand pointed at your face, you flinch. It's a normal reaction to getting something you weren't expecting."

"But you should've been expecting it," Hermione countered as she re-opened her eyes and raised her eyebrows. "I mean, come on, otherwise there'd be a classroom full of flinching students every time we practiced casting hex-"

"_Orchideous_!" Harry exclaimed out of the blue, pointing his wand at Hermione's face as he did so; the protruding boquet of flowers that proceeded forth from the wand brushed her nose, causing her to sneeze. "Bless you."

"Thank you," she said, wiping at her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. "But why in the world did you just _do_ that anyway?"

"To try to make you flinch," Harry said simply, relaxing his wand.

"Oh, for goodness sake, you are _not_ going to make _me_ flinch! Now are we going to study _Obscuro_ or not?"

"Of course we- _Rictusempra_!"

Doubling over nearly immediately with a fit of the giggles, Hermione grasped at either of her sides as she hugged herself, a tickling sensation driving her to wriggle right off the couch, landing sideways on the floor. "St-Stop it, Harry!" she said through her laughter, before tossing her head back and giggling even harder.

"Er… I don't know how to!" he exclaimed, now appearing panicked rather than smug as he, too, got to the floor, on his hands and knees as he made it to Hermione's side. "What's the counter curse?"

"_F_-_F_-" Hermione stuttered, still laughing uncontrollably, now as she rolled over onto her stomach.

"_F_-what?" Harry said to her, now looking positively alarmed as the tickling continued to subdue Hermione, bringing tears to her eyes, he could see, as she rolled once more over onto her back; deciding to control the matter any which way he could, Harry quickly moved to hover over his friend, holding back each of her wrists to the floor as he straddled her, his knees at either of her sides, holding her down so she could barely budge as the tickling jinx continued to make her giggle. "Now tell me again, how do I stop this charm?"

"_Finite… F-f… Finite Incan… Incanatem_!" she managed in between giggles and stolen breaths.

"Right," Harry said, before releasing one of Hermione's wrists and instead picking up and aiming his wand at her again, stating clearly as he did so, "_Finite Incanatem_!"

At once, the witch beneath him relaxed, and Harry did as well, sighing as his rigid shoulders relaxed, his wand dropping to the floor. "Wow, I'm really sorry about that," he said, somewhat sheepishly as Hermione glared up at him from the floor where she remained, feeling slightly sore all over. "Really, I am."

When Hermione said nothing, Harry added, "I really, _really_ am."

Sighing heavily, the brown-eyed girl finally calmed herself a bit and said, "I laughed myself off of the couch entirely. Was that enough of a flinch for you?"

"Eh, frankly... no," Harry said at once, though he continued to look apologetic. "It was a tickle, not a flinch. Still, sorry. So sorry."

"Whatever. Forgiven. Look, do you mind letting me up then?" Hermione replied, and it was then that Harry realized he was still straddling her, and quickly moved to scramble away, before getting to his feet and offering her a hand to stand up, as well. "Again, so very sorry," he said once more as she did so.

"Oh, it's all right. It really is. I'm just glad I'm not being tickled anymore. That was terrible. I'd think twice before using it again if I were you. I know I will."

"Really? Being… tickled was really so bad?" Harry dared to ask, and before he could blink, Hermione had her wand pointed right at his chest. "Oh, _come on_! You yourself just said we should both think twice before using it, Hermione!"

"Okay," the witch replied, hesitating for a few seconds, before then saying, "Well, I've thought about it twice. Shall I commence? _Rictusempra!"_

Instantly, Harry was back on the floor, this time rolling from side to side, crying out in fits of laughter as an insane tickling sensation took over his entire body. "Hermione, stop it!"

"Why? The fun's only just begun. It's only a little _tickling_ spell after all."

"H-H-Hermione!"

"Oh, alright, alright," she relented, casually flicking her wand as she murmured, "_Finite Incanatem_."

Taking in a deep breath as the tickling sensation vanished, Harry relaxed and stretched back somewhat on the floor, looking up at Hermione as she seemingly towered over him. "You're right. I will think twice before using that one again."

"Good to know the lesson's learned," she replied, before reaching down and offering a hand to Harry; rather than taking it and standing, the green-eyed teenager jerked his hand back unexpectedly, pulling Hermione atop him as he lay there on the floor.

As she collapsed atop him with a soft _oomph!_ sound, Hermione dropped her wand to the floor, where it criss-crossed atop Harry's. "We are never going to study tonight, are we?" she asked him wryly, moving a hand to straighten his glasses on his face, as they'd gone crooked during his tickle spell induced writhing fit.

"Well I was certainly hoping to," Harry replied. "I'm really not sure if I have the knack for the spell down right yet or not."

"Why don't you give it a try then?" Hermione suggested.

"Okay," Harry agreed, before reaching over and picking up what he thought to be his wand. "_Obscuro_!"

The second the charm left his mouth, the wizard realized that he was not holding his own wand, and he sat bolt upright in horror as he watched the hex he cast from his friend's wand have a bizarre affect, where it sent her flying backward across the room, ultimating when she landed against the back of an arm chair. Scrambling to his feet, Harry ran over and knelt down at her side, placing a hand at the side of Hermione's face. "Are you okay?" he asked, eyes wide.

"I'll be fine. I landed against something soft," she answered him, before taking her wand from his hand and adding, "But I think that's enough studying for the night."

"But we didn't even cover one subject!" Harry protested.

"Sure we did. We positively _conquered_ _Rictusempra_," Hermione retorted, getting to her feet as Harry remained knelt by the chair.

"Aw, come on, that's no fair," he said as he, too, stood. "What if I fail something, hmm? Do you really want that on your shoulders?"

"Stop sounding like Ron," Hermione said then, and Harry shot her a dirty look. "What?" she said. "Well you just did."

"Maybe we are done studying for the night," Harry said to her.

"Well, fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"_Fine_," Harry repeated back, needing to get the last word in.

"Oh, stop being silly," Hermione said to him, clearly quite aggravated as she stalked back over to the couch, sitting down again as she picked up the book for Charms class. "_Obscuro_ is best achieved with a slight flick of the wrist to the right when the spell itself is said, and said clearly," she read aloud from it. "Wanna give it another go?"

"Sure," Harry replied as he retrieved his own wand from the floor; pointing it at Hermione, he indeed flicked his wrist slightly to the right, saying, "_Obscuro_!"

At once, a blindfold of sorts shrouded the witch's vision entirely, and she smiled, clapping her hands politely. "Great job, Harry! I can't see a thing."

"Good," he answered her, before approaching her and leaning forward, quickly planting the most chaste of kisses to her lips; she nearly jumped in response, her heart skipping a beat just once, before resuming and going into full-blown overdrive.

After muttering the counter curse to lift the shroud and seeing the look of surprise on Hermione's face, Harry gave her a crooked smile and said, "Made you flinch, didn't I?"

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><p><em><strong>AN: this will hopefully be updated with a new oneshot soon enough. Thanks again for reading!**_


	2. Chapter 2: It Just Is

**I still don't own Harry Potter.  
><strong>

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><p>Ron snored loudly as he lay asleep on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. The flames in the fireplace were still crackling, though they were nowhere near as ablaze as they had been hours earlier. Sitting in chairs nearby were Harry and Hermione, who were both tired themselves, but who both felt kept awake by entirely different emotions.<p>

Harry, for instance, was still feeling the adrenaline rush from his kiss earlier in the Room of Requirement with Cho Chang. Hermione, on the other hand, was feeling a rush of blood to the head from a feeling of disappointment, and a feeling of - if she were to dig deep enough, she'd find - jealousy. She'd known for ages that her best friend liked the Ravenclaw girl, but still, him actually _kissing_ her brought about a reaction consisting of something else entirely within the pit of her stomach. It was like witnessing a crime first hand, rather than watching it on some television drama. It was ridiculous for her to be jealous, when she in fact harbored feelings for Ron, as well as Harry, but nonetheless she knew somewhere within her that this green-eyed monster lay dormant.

Jealousy wasn't really something that Hermione could claim to have felt all that often. She had a great family, loving and understanding parents first and foremost, two of the best friends anyone could ever hope for, and the highest grades in all of the school. Who was she to be jealous of anyone? And yet here she was, indeed jealous, and not even over Ravenclaw's claim to wit beyond measure, either. Nope. It was over a boy. She could scarcely believe it, yet she couldn't deny the obvious plausibility of it all the same. They were all hormone-rattled fifteen and sixteen year olds in her year, after all. Even the brightest witch of her age couldn't escape the effects of, well, being a teenager.

Glancing over to Harry to see that he had a faint, gleeful smile on his face, the witch with soft brown hair rolled her eyes, before grimacing to herself. As she looked away with this painful expression on her face, Harry glanced over in her direction, before raising his eyebrows as he noticed it. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?" she answered, closing her eyes as she tried to relax her expression.

"Why do you look like you're in pain, or something? What's up?"

"Nothing," she said, feigning a smile as she looked back over to him.

"But I swear you looked like something was bothering you," Harry insisted, leaning over the arm of his chair slightly.

"Let it go, Harry. I'm fine. I promise," Hermione answered him, still smiling back.

"No, you're not," the wizard answered her, locking eyes with her as he reached out to touch her hand. "Come on. It's me you're talking to. What's going on?"

Finally relenting a bit, Hermione said to him, "Harry, what would you do if, say, I kissed you, then, I dunno, went off and snogged Ron, as well?"

Feeling completely caught off guard by this question, the fifteen year old young man looked back at his friend with a completely confused expression on his face for a solid moment, before finally replying with, "Uhm, well, you like Ron, don't you? I mean, we're all best friends, so…"

"So you'd honestly be okay with me kissing you, then kissing _him_, without so much as a clear point made as to whether or not I exactly planned on ever kissing you again?" Hermione suddenly demanded to know, jerking her hand away from Harry's as she got up from her chair. "_Seriously_?"

Also standing, the dark-haired boy said, "I'm sorry… for upsetting you? Somehow?"

"I know you weren't trying to, and you were completely within your rights to kiss Cho Chang. Go on and date her all you want, in fact. Forget I said anything… I didn't mean to imply… anything, Harry. I just want you to be happy."

Feeling more confused than he ever could have imagined possible, Harry cautiously approached Hermione, placing a hand on her shoulder as she stood near the fireplace. "Earlier, when you said all those things Cho must be feeling at once, and Ron said someone would explode if they felt all that… are _you_ feeling too many things at once right now, also?"

Nodding slightly, Hermione managed to give her friend a smile. "Yes, I think so, Harry. Good observation."

Hesitating as it came to him what might be bothering his friend, he spoke to her again. "Listen, if it really bothers you that I kissed you last year-"

"Harry, don't worry, I was just being-"

"I mean, I guess I wasn't trying to initiate anything? I just-"

"Harry, please…"

"To be honest, I thought you were gonna bring it up earlier, when you said I wasn't a bad kisser, but like I said, I thought you liked Ron, so, but, whatever - about the kiss last year-"

"_Harry_, just forget about it!"

"And how I am to do that? How I am to _forget_ that I kissed you, Hermione?"

Rosy patches faintly appearing on her cheeks, the brown haired witch fell silent at this, before looking away, picking up a poker to idly strike the fireplace flames with. Also growing quiet, Harry removed his hand from Hermione's shoulder, before walking back over to the chair and taking his seat once again. Picking up a text book, he opened up his copy for Potions, attempting to read by the firelight about a particularly difficult potion to brew. _Eye of newt, three sticks of cinnamon_… he barely got beyond the first couple ingrediants before closing the book again, instead choosing his Charms book. He didn't even open this one before he put it back, remembering what had come of it the year before.

With a sigh, Harry ultimately brought a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as he did so. "Hermione, I think I'm gonna go on to bed."

"Okay. Sleep well. Maybe you oughta wake up Ron so he can go up the stairs with you," the witch answered him, still poking at the fire off and on.

"Are you sure it's okay if I go?" Harry asked as he stood up, looking on to her even as she kept her back to him.

"I expect Cho will decide things like that; she'll be your girlfriend from now on," Hermione said to him, before finally glancing back, giving him a smile as she did so. "And I won't do anything to try and stop it. Maybe you can make each other happy, you know? I just want you happy."

"I want you happy, too, you know," Harry answered her, as he stepped over to Ron.

"I will be, if you are."

Unsure of what to say to this, Harry reached down and gently shook his shoulder. "C'mon, time for bed, Ron. Get up."

"_I did do my homework, Hermione! Honest_!" Ron exclaimed, sitting upright on the couch, before blinking and shaking his head. "Oh, Harry… sorry for shouting."

"Are you _sure_ you did your homework?" Hermione then asked aloud, as she remained by the fireplace.

Shrieking, Ron jumped. "What is - oh - this isn't the dormitory. Did I fall asleep in the common room?"

"Obviously," Hermione said to him, looking on over to him as she spoke. "Good to know I inspire nightmares about homework, by the way."

"It wasn't a nightmare," Ron said to her defensively, shifting his eyes to the right. "Just a particularly stressful dream."

"Right…" Hermione said to him, unable to conceal her smirk at the thought of an innocuous subject like homework instilling such fear in a person's dreams. "Go on to bed, Ronald."

Standing up slowly, giving a stretch as he did so, Ron said to her in a lazy voice, "I am, I am. Don't tell me what to do."

"Someone's grumpy at being woken up," Hermione replied, and Ron blew a raspberry at her in reply.

"Just come on already," Harry said to his best mate, before nodding his head in the direction of the stairs that would lead to the dormitory.

As the pair reached the foot of the staircase, Harry waited until Ron had gone on up a few stairs, before lingering behind and saying to him, "You go on up. I'm gonna collect my books and then I'll be up in a minute."

"Oh, okay," Ron said, continuing on up his way.

Looking back to Harry as she watched him make a beeline for her, Hermione very nearly held her breath as he drew so quickly nearer and nearer. Finally, he was barely an inch apart from her, and he seemed undecided as to what he should do now that he'd arrived.

"Harry…?" she said in a very quiet whisper.

Hesitating a few seconds longer, the wizard finally moved his face in toward hers slightly, before aiming upwards, placing a kiss on Hermione's forehead. His lips lingering there for a short time, Harry finally moved away, before placing a hand at the side of his friend's face. "If dating Cho will upset you, I won't do it."

"You've liked her since Third Year, haven't you, Harry?" Hermione replied, cutting her eyes upward slightly to meet his. "Go on and date her already."

"How do you know so much about me, Hermione?" he asked in reply.

After smiling for a moment, the witch answered him, "I just… do. It just… is."

Pondering this, Harry finally returned her smile, saying, "Yeah… I think I know what you mean, now that I think about it."

"I figured you would," Hermione said simply, before nodding her head toward the stairs. "Go on to bed then."

"Hey, don't tell me what to do," Harry said, mimicking Ron, though the smile remained on his face.

In response, Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, before beginning to laugh. Harry shook his head at her, before joining in.


	3. Chapter 3: Don't Speak

**Still don't own Harry Potter.  
><strong>

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><p>Feeling her heart beat upwards, into her throat, Hermione Granger felt something she didn't often feel, and it was frightening her. She felt powerless, completely unsure for once - entirely and completely unsure as anyone could be. Ron had been poisoned, and as far as she knew, nearly Harry and Slughorn, her Potions proffesor, had almost been poisoned, as well. In knowing that one of her best friends had been nearly killed, the brightest witch of her age had been startled into a near state of shock to realize that, for once, there was nothing she could do to help. No, her methods of logic would not be aiding anyone this time. She knew it was true, even if she was terrified to admit it.<p>

Slowly but surely, she eventually reached the door of the Apothecary, her palm so sweaty that her hand slipped from the silver door handle as she went to turn it. Anther second later, and the door was pulled open from the inside. Jumping at the startle it caused, the brown-eyed girl suddenly found herself face to face with her other best friend.

"Hermione," Harry said to her, taking hold of her hand as he led her on into the room.

The Sixth Year suspected Harry had said something else after speaking her name, but she was unsure, seeing as most of her senses (hearing included) had gone numb and failed her once she laid eyes on the unconscious ginger lying in the bed before her.

"What happened?" she wanted to ask, but when she opened her mouth, words didn't come out; her unasked question was seemingly answered seconds later anyway.

"It was me. I shouldn't have froze like I did," Proffesor Slughorn's voice began to say, over and over again. "It was Harry who got to him, and just in the nick of time."

"Harry?" Hermione said aloud in a hoarse whisper, turning her attention fully to him, her eyes meeting his.

"Well, I thought to grab a bezoar," the young man explained, before clearing his throat and adding, "I mean, if Snape hadn't mentioned it in class before, I might not have thought to…"

"But thank _Merlin _you did think of it," Madam Pomfrey piped in, before saying to the room at large, "Now, I'm really sorry to do this, but I need the lot of you to clear out - just for a bit. I need to check up on the boy's vital signs. Surely you understand?"

"Of course," Hermione answered the older lady, before waiting as Professor Slughorn left the room, followed by Harry, who she herself then followed after.

While the professor bid his students farewell and left to hurriedly head back to his office to try and calm his guilt- and worry-ridden mind, Harry and Hermione remained just outside the Apothecary, neither speaking for a few solid minutes. Finally breaking the silence (though not as she had necessarily meant to) Hermione opened her mouth, but rather than words leaving her mouth, it was a torrent of teardrops that escaped from her eyes instead.

"I'm sorry for crying, Harry," she said in a thick sounding voice.

"There's no need to be sorry," the young man answered her at once, slowly taking her into his arms, to comfort her.

"I've been horrible to Ron for a while now," she said. "I mean, he wasn't kind about Lavender, but I hardly think all this grudge was worth it now."

"No one could have seen this coming," Harry said to her, holding her closer. "I'm just grateful I remembered about the bezoars."

Shivering, Hermione quickly pulled away from Harry, before saying, "What if you couldn't've gotten a bezoar? Proffesor Slughorn was frozen in fear, right? If you'd drank the poison too, then Slughorn wouldn't have been able to do anything all the same - too panic-stricken. I'd have lost Ron and… I'd have lost _you_."

"But it didn't happen that way," Harry said to her, stroking her hair. "Don't worry. Ron's going to recover fully, and I'm perfectly fine."

"You won't be perfectly fine forever, though - none of us will - not with Voldemort getting stronger and stronger," the witch replied at once in a calmer voice; her tears were beginning to slow down to a stop.

"That's true but, we know how to fight, thanks to all the training Dumbledore's Army did last year," Harry reminded her.

"That's true, but… it's still so uncertain - the future, that is," Hermione said, her eyes looking to well up again.

Harry, not wanting to see her cry more, rubbed his hands up and down her back quickly, before cracking a small smile and saying, "Come on, Ron will be fine. Chin up, or I'll have to take desperate measures. Don't make me use _Rictusempra_ on you again."

Pulling away from her friend slightly at this, Hermione returned his small smile, before reaching upwards and placing her lips against his, kissing him slowly for a moment (a kiss which he returned) before she broke away, and resting her head on his chest instead.

"Hermione," he began to say seconds later, as he kept his arms around her. "I-"

Shaking her head as she gently pulled herself out of Harry's arms once more, Hermione looked back at her Harry, her eyes searching his for a moment, before she said, "I know."

"It's not… it's just-"

"No, don't speak, Harry. Don't worry about it… I get it. I just felt that, if anything, before either of us get wrapped up into other... relationships, that I should do this, while and when I had the chance, you know what I mean? Who knows when I'd ever have another chance to, well, kiss you back… seeing as you kissed me first, in our Fourth Year."

Nodding his head slowly, Harry sighed heavily, before saying, "How am I supposed to not say anything after that? I understand your - your _logic_, but it still seems like you always get hurt in the end, after things like this happen."

"If it does hurt me, then who's to say it isn't my own doing? Besides, I care about you and Ron both. I expect that if we were together, it'd cause another rift between you and him. I don't want to jeopardize your friendship, or our collective friendship. Maybe, in another time and another place, when things are different, we can make this work."

Moving a hand to tuck a misplaced piece of hair behind Hermione's ear and out of her face, Harry answered her, "It came out of nowhere, you know? Me seeing Ginny differently, that is."

"It did seem sudden, but, it's not like it's a bad thing. Ginny is really great," Hermione reasoned.

"You're really great, too," Harry replied, to which the witch smiled, before taking a step back, away from him.

"You don't have to explain or reason or anything like that. I'm the one who kissed you, Harry, and if I get burned for putting my hand in the fire again, then it's my own doing."

Frowning slightly, concern in his eyes, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but found he didn't have the right words to say how twisted and mixed and confused he felt inside. In the end, he just closed his mouth again, still frowning.

"I'm going to go now, to get some books I left in the Common Room. I'll need them so I can read up a bit while we wait with Ron later," Hermione said with a curt nod of her head, before turning and heading away from the Apothecary.

Watching as she left, Harry eventually closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall behind him as he tried to sort out all the feelings rushing about inside him. He cared for Ginny, he cared for Hermione. He didn't want to upset Ron, but this seemed impossible to avoid either way. He cared for Ginny, he cared for _Hermione_…

As he opened his eyes once again, Harry found that only one thing seemed certain. When he and Hermione weren't trapped together in the so-called fire, as she'd put it, things felt infinitely more cold without her there.


	4. Chapter 4: Worth It

**Still don't own Harry Potter.  
><strong>

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><p>Hermione felt cold.<p>

She was standing outside the tent, her back leant against a tree, arms folded across her bosom. A near identical sight to her stance from the night before, as well as several other nights before it, she gave a shiver as a slight breeze blew and whistled its way through the trees, ultimately blowing itself over her, as well. Closing her eyes as her heart sank like a stone (a common occurence as of late), she opened them soon again, before reaching down to a watch on her wrist, pressing a tiny button at its side to illuminate its face. It was nearing four in the morning.

As he stood just outside the tent, Harry kept his eyes on the witch standing just a few feet away, who was standing on the other side of a tree, with her back pressed against it. Even if Hermione didn't realize it, Harry had been standing there and watching her for several, long minutes. After waking to find himself alone in the tent, he'd slipped outside quietly, fearing that he'd find Hermione in the same place he'd been finding her every single early-morning hour for the past three weeks. He knew what she was doing, and - in some, slight ways, he found - he didn't blame her for at least trying. He admired her hope and faith in their friend. Yet, three weeks was quite a long time, all the same, and he found himself to be a little less hopeful than she was by this point, to say the least.

If nothing else, it was beginning to really grate on his mind how much Hermione was putting herself through, standing outside in the cold, alone for hours at a time, waiting for something that simply wasn't going to happen. Not anytime soon, at least.

"It's been almost a month," he said aloud finally, his hands in his jacket pockets as he stepped forward toward the yonder tree.

"I know. That doesn't mean he won't come back, just outside the perimeter I put up. I'd be able to see him, even if couldn't see the tent or us. I can't risk him appearing and me not being there to go and get him," the witch replied at once, in her typical logical fashion, keeping her back firmly pressed against the tree as she returned to folding her arms and staring blankly ahead toward the dark and weary forest.

"You also shouldn't be risking catching your death of cold," Harry said to her, feeling more and more peeved by the second at how upsetting the whole notion of it all was; Ron had been influenced by that stupid horcrux, sure, but _still_, everything had its limits, and perhaps Ron had finally reached his in doing this to Hermione.

"I know you miss him, too," Hermione then said to Harry, not responding to the death of cold remark. "And he will come back. Eventually."

"Yeah, well, you know what? _He_ walked out on _us_. So neither of _us_ should have to wait around for _him_ to come back. And, besides, I'm really sick of watching you stand out here in the cold-"

"I have a jacket. Stop being ridiculous."

"Yeah, you have a jacket. But you're still shivering, Hermione. And, by the way, I'll stop being ridiculous when you do the same."

"Why is waiting for our friend ridiculous?" Hermione snapped back, finally turning to whip herself around to the other side of the tree, glaring sternly back at her friend.

"It's only ridiculous because he didn't act like much of a friend when he bloody abandoned us. Now, for the love of-"

"It was the horcrux," Hermione interupted. "It was just the influence of the horcrux that made him say all those horrible things before leaving."

Blinking, Harry shook his head quickly, before taking a step inward, closer to Hermione. "_No_," he said firmly, the level of his voice rising gradually. "_We_ had the horcrux to wear, as well. The both of us. You didn't abandon Ron and me, and I never abandoned Ron and you! Horcrux or no horcrux, that was a damn stupid and spiteful thing that he did to us!"

"Yeah, well, tensions run high out here, all alone and on the run, Harry!" Hermione replied defensively, her nostrils flaring slightly as she uncrossed her arms, straightening them out at either of her sides instead, her hands balling slightly. "I am _sorry_ for all the nasty things he said about your family, and I'm sorry he walked out on us, but _still_, to not wait for him seems unfair."

"You standing here and _apologizing_ for his being a complete arse is what's unfair, Hermione! I won't stand here and watch you for another single night, waiting by the perimeter edge, just in case-"

"Go back in the tent if it bothers you so much to see me standing here then!"

"_Stop_ interuppting me, Hermione!"

"Well, stop telling me what and what not to do, Harry Potter!"

Opening his mouth to scream back at her, just as he'd been doing, the young man paused and closed his mouth again, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he simply glared back at her instead. Her own bosom was rising and falling as quickly as his was, and her face - save from being pale from the cold - had a quite bright flush of heated, red color across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her hands, he noticed, had coiled further, into solid fists. Her legs, on the other hand, were sporting trembling knees, and as he took a step in closer toward her, he watched her take a step back, closer to the trunk of the tree now behind her, and a step back away from him.

"I'm just concerned about you. Am I not allowed to be? Is it because I'm not Ron? Can only _Ron_ care about you now, or something? Because, if that _is_ the case, then I have to call bullocks on it. When I cared about Cho, I did something about it. I dated her, gave it a go. Didn't toy with her feelings, did I? And same with Ginny. Did I just lead her on a tiny bit, then never ask her out?"

"No, you just dated her for a little while, then waited until you had to set off on this journey to dump her instead," Hermione replied, unable to quite see the point he was trying to so nobaly make here.

"Wow," Harry said simply. "I didn't dump her because it was something fun to do. I did it to protect her. I did it so that complete monster out there wouldn't target her, Hermione."

Suddenly finding herself feeling particularly stung at hearing this, the brown-eyed girl widened her eyes a bit, but said nothing, allowing for Harry to continue on with his unfinished rant.

"And so, as I was saying, when a bloke likes a girl, he generally should do something about it. He shouldn't just gawk at her when she's in pretty dresses, or hold her hand at night, then never properly ask her out, or even kiss her. And, if nothing else - over all of what was just said - he _damn_ sure shouldn't abandon her in the middle of a deadly mission, in the middle of nowhere! He should stay. He should _protect_ her, if she means anything to him."

"Well, hell, Harry," Hermione finally replied; the wizard was slightly surprised, as it was a rare occurence, indeed, for her to let slip a swear. "If that _is_ the case, why aren't you off with Ginny somewhere, protecting her from the complete monster in question? I mean, seriously. _Oh, I left Ginny behind because I care about her. Yet I took my two best friends with me, because hey, if they snuff it, I'll still have you in reserve to care about, Gin'._ For _real_, Harry? Did you honestly, legitemately just say that to me?"

Taking a quick step closer up to Hermione, Harry felt the corner of his jaw twitch, before he shook his head rapidly from side to side once, and then set her with a glare. "Are _you_ for real, Hermione? You - did you seriously... you think I wouldn't mind if you or Ron, how'd you put it? Snuffed it? I can't believe that honestly came from your mouth."

"Yeah, well, I know that's not what you meant to say before, but God's sake, Harry, that's sure how it felt to hear it," Hermione clarified, before swallowing down a lump in her throat. "And, by the way, you could take a lesson from your own school of random, romantic knowledge. Kissing a girl, not really meaning it, never taking it further - you know, Ron isn't the only bloke without a clue out in the world."

Casting his eyes down toward the ground as he recalled a moment from years past in the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry ultimately gave a sigh, before looking back up at his friend. "You know, you are definitely right. I did screw that up, didn't I?"

"You screwed up what exactly?" Hermione asked, wanting Harry to elaborate.

"Well, your feelings, I suppose."

Feeling as though he'd missed the point entirely, somehow, the witch blinked a few times in quick succession, before resuming her balled-fisted, rigid stance from before. "Are you serious? You think you're single-handedly responsible for - what is it again? Screwing up my feelings? Hold _that_ thought - since when do you think my feelings are screwed up at all? Why don't you tell a girl these kinds of things?"

"Because, if you do, she might take it the wrong way and bite your damn head off."

"Well, whatever you want to think, Harry. Ha. _I'm_ screwed up, but you'd have me not wait for Ron."

"Ron's not coming back anytime soon! Face it already!"

"You don't know that, Harry! You don't _know that_!"

"Yeah, well I have a pretty good feeling about it, though. Stop acting stupid. You're being completely brainless, which trust me, for the brightest witch of her age, is quite an accomplishment."

"Go stuff yourself, Harry!"

"Might as well, seeing as it'd be about as much of a waste of time as you're committing night after night!"

"Waiting for a friend isn't a waste of time!"

"Waiting for an idiot who isn't coming back _is_!" Harry bellowed, his chest heaving again; he was probably entering a state of tachycardia at this point, but he didn't really care - this was one battle he wasn't going to let Hermione win, if just on principle alone.

Her own blood rushing so harshly through her veins that it aided her heart to beat in an impossibly fierce way, Hermione widened her eyes even further, before shouting back, "Well I'm glad you're one so capable of judging! Ron's an idiot who definitely won't come back, and me? Oh, _I'm_ brainless _and_ screwed up."

"Yeah, well, hell, I should know," Harry said, no longer shouting, though still as worked up as ever. "I'm brainless and screwed up myself lately."

Not sure of what exactly was possessing him to do so, the bespectacled young man then found himself quite suddenly closing in the last bit of space between himself and Hermione. Forcing her back to press against the trunk of the tree fully, he swooped down to kiss on the lips her with everything he had in him.

At first feeling caught off guard to a frightening degree by Harry's actions, the young woman soon found herself shaking this off, her mouth slowly but surely working to return Harry's kiss in a most eager fashion. Her hands relaxing at her sides, she soon came to move those as well, to place them at the small of Harry's back.

Likewise, the wizard was moving his own hands, one of them reaching for Hermione's hair, which is fingers soon tangled themselves up in, all the while as the kiss continued, heated and feverent while his other hand found her hip. Grabbing and rubbing there slightly with his thumb as he felt her run her own hands up and down his back, Harry soon broke away to take in a much needed breath of oxygen, before changing tactic, moving his mouth lower, to the crook of Hermione's neck and shoulder.

Gasping aloud as she felt Harry kiss and nip at her skin, Hermione slid her hands all the way up his back, before wrapping her fingers up in his hair. Her heart was threatening to burst from her chest, but she didn't care. This may have been wrong, she thought, but it felt right enough, so she saw no need to put an end to it. No, rather than doing that, she lowered her own mouth instead, nipping at the side of Harry's neck affectionately in return.

Pausing in one spot to suck slightly at her skin, Harry had just gathered the precise amount of courage needed to slip his hand upwards slightly from her hip, to brush his fingers against the skin just beneath Hermione's shirt, when a sound from somewhere amidst the trees startled them both.

"What was that?" he asked, releasing her side and gently untangling his other hand from her hair.

"Hopefully not Death Eaters," Hermione said in a hushed, breathless sort of voice, her own hands falling to the side as Harry gradually stepped away from her, widening his eyes as he looked beyond the tree they were at, to try and see if he could spot the source of the noise.

As soon as her body was freed up enough to, Hermione also joined Harry in spying for the source, slowly turning to face the direction of the forest. As the sound was heard again, she gave a slight jump, and Harry put his hands at her sides to steady her, before giving a chuckle.

"What are you laughing at?" she demanded to know.

"Oh, can't you see it?" he asked, before pointing outward, in the direction of the trees.

"_Oh_, now I do," she said, smirking as she spotted the rabbit for herself, hopping from one bush to the next. "What a silly thing to scare us."

"Yes, well, as we were once told..." Harry began to say in a stoic voice, before adding in a loud, much more startling voice, "_Constant vigilance_!"

"Oh, stop it," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she turned to face Harry, playfully pushing him, before giving a rather loud yawn.

Looking back at her and seeing more closely just how exhausted she honestly was, Harry said to her quietly, "Hermione, I think you should go and get some sleep in the ten. Seriously, okay? I'm worried about how tired you are."

"But, what if..." she began to say, before trailing off, glancing away.

"Tell you what, we'll make a deal," Harry said. "I'll finish watching for Ron this morning, and I'll keep an all-night watch for him tomorrow night, too, just in case. But only on two conditions: one is that you sleep in late today, and get a good night's sleep tomorrow night, too, and the other is that, if he doesn't show by tomorrow morning... you'll let it go, at least for now. It's no use setting yourself up for letdown over and over and over again. Not after what he did. I'm not trying to be inconsiderate about our best friend, I'm just... saying, that's all."

Finally giving in, Hermione slowly nodded her head a couple of times, before leaning forward and giving Harry a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for keeping watch for me," she said, murmuring the words against Harry's skin, before pulling away, adding a goodnight, and heading on for the tent.

"Goodnight," Harry returned, watching as she made her way to bed, finally.

He still didn't believe Ron would show, but if it made Hermione happy, he'd keep the watch as promised. Looking away from the tent and back to the tree, his heart gave a strange sort of half-beat, before picking up speed and racing a bit. If nothing else, he'd follow his own advice this time - not lead a girl on for no good reason. Hermione didn't deserve that sort of treatment, not in the slightest.

As he slowly made his way over to stand next to the tree - their tree, he deemed it - he knew that, if nothing else, he was more uncertain about everything in the world itself than he'd ever been before in his entire life. It was confusing at best, mind-boggling at worst, and, if he was being honest, the latter was more close to the truth than the former. As it was now, he officially had no idea where the future would lead, which, while a scary prospect, was worth it.

Hermione was worth it, more specficially. That much, at least, he did know.


	5. Chapter 5: Natural

**I still don't own Harry Potter.  
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><p><em>Godric's Hollow<em>.

Not that Harry carried around some sort of all-consuming death wish or anything, he still had to admit that Godric's Hollow would be a great final destination for himself, if it needed to be. As he now sat on a tree stump just outside the tent he shared with Hermione, he decided in his head that if he had to die (either that night, or any time soon) that he'd certainly want to draw his last breath in the same place both of his parents had. That said, there was also another factor occupying his mind.

Even if Harry had indeed found some sort of solace in the idea of dying in Godric's Hollow, the thought of Hermione finding the same fate there scared him in a way he hadn't been scared in a long time. Not just one of his best friends, the witch was now also something so important to him that he couldn't think of a label deserving enough to allocate to it. "Girlfriend" was a term that border lined on insult as far as either of them was concerned. In fact, as far as Harry knew, there was no word that fit the situation just right. Accordingly, he asked Hermione, and when she didn't have a word she considered befitting enough for Harry either, they both decided to take a third option.

As it seemed, they'd both decided there simply was no entry in either the Muggle or Wizard dictionary that, in a single word, was able to explain a best friend, turned love interest who could practically read your thoughts, and who was also willing to die with you or for you, that you had been impossibly close with since childhood.

So they ultimately settled on, rather than "boyfriend", "girlfriend", "dear", "darling", "baby" or anything else like it, to simply refer to each other as they always had done. For them it was simply _Harry and Hermione, Until the End_, and they liked it so much because it was simple, clean and natural. After all, hadn't they always been this way with one another?

"Harry, will you come inside the tent please?"

Breaking into his thoughts, Hermione's voice caused him to stir at once, though he'd been sitting on the stump for more than an hour already, silently. Standing up, he tried to shake the thoughts of terrible, imminent death from his mind. He was quite sure that Hermione was plenty capable of worrying herself to death as it was, without him adding to it.

"What's up?" he asked as he stepped on into the tent, once he had cleared his mind the best he could.

"I've been thinking a lot about our plan to go to Godric's Hollow," Hermione answered him, an indeed worried look in her eyes.

"So have I," confessed Harry.

"I figured as much. See …not to sound doubtful, but, I have a gut feeling that something really bad will happen there. I know we still need to go. We have to. It's just …I have a feeling. That's all."

Stepping up closer to Hermione, Harry wrapped her in his arms, holding her closely next to him.

"Harry…" she murmured. "I've decided something."

"What's that?" he replied.

"This will sound completely morbid, I warn you, but …I really spent so much time thinking about it all, that I've decided that if I really do have to die tonight, then I'm glad, at least, that it's going to happen while I'm with you."

Feeling both moved by her words and terrified that she had accepted the possibility of death so thoroughly as he himself had, Harry slowly pulled away from Hermione, before leaning in to kiss her. Starting out slowly, the kiss gradually increased in ferocity as the seconds ticked by. When the pair finally did break apart, Harry looked into her eyes.

"You are not going to die tonight. I won't let it happen," he said to her, and as he said so, he honestly felt it ring true in his gut. "Really, I won't let anything hurt you."

Smiling at him, though her eyes looked more intent on crying, Hermione said, "I know, Harry, and I'd do anything for you, to make sure you'll be okay, as well. And I know you'll do the same for me for always."

"Always," Harry repeated back to her, before kissing Hermione on the side of her neck and then drawing her in for a second hug.

"Harry," Hermione said again, not too soon afterward; Harry smiled when she did, as he was rather fond of the way she said his name. "Yes, Hermione?" he returned.

"I think that, just in case something does happen to either of us, that we should do something before we go to Godric's Hollow, because who knows if we'll ever have the chance again? I put a lot of thought into it, as well, and I'm ready."

"Oh?" Harry replied, though he felt he didn't have to actually ask Hermione to find out what the answer was, especially seeing as she was beginning to slide her hands up and down his back.

"Hermione," he said, seconds later, resting his chin on her shoulder, so that his mouth was by her ear. "I do love you, and I will protect you tonight, no matter what happens."

Smiling, the brown-eyed girl continued rubbing her hands up and down his back, before saying quietly, "I know you love me. And you know I'll stay by you, too, no matter what, and I know the same is true for you, to me. I love you, too, but I'm not that great with... words lately."

"You're always great with words," Harry answered her at once, though he could feel both his own heart racing, as well as hers, and he knew that the fact that their breathing patterns were growing uneven and erratic as they held each other more closely was no coincidence.

"I want to show you I love you," Hermione said simply, before moving away slightly to look back into Harry's eyes, before slowly bringing her face in to his, beginning to kiss him fully on the lips.

As he returned the kiss, Harry vaguely wondered if he should stop her to ask if she was really sure she wanted to do this. But then he thought better of it, because there was certainly no way the Hermione he'd known for practically half his life would have ever decided to enter into this important and life-changing of a situation without being one hundred percent sure, and beyond the faintest shadow of any doubt.

As the pair soon found themselves beginning to kiss feverishly, Hermione felt Harry slip his hand just barely beneath her top. As his fingers brushed against her skin, she found herself a bit surprised. She wasn't surprised that she was going to do this with Harry. If nothing else, it seemed like the natural way in the order how things should be that she'd be doing this with Harry, above anyone else. All in all, she supposed, she was just caught off guard by how not scared she felt. She felt happy, certain, and more alive than she ever had before in her entire life at this moment in time, but she found that her heart raced with want and desire – not fear.

Then again, she figured, as he began to walk her backwards to one of the beds as they continued to kiss, this _was_ Harry. If she trusted anyone in the whole world completely, it was him.


	6. Chapter 6: Not Okay

**Don't own Harry Potter. I a**_**m**_** eager to be able to register for Pottermore though, whenever that becomes a possibility for me. Anyway – bit of angst ahead, fair warning. Thanks for reading/reviewing/whatnot.  
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><p><em>I want to show you I love you, Harry.<em>

Hermione Granger could count on one hand the number of times she'd felt that she'd done or said something legitimately, completely and inexcusably stupid. Now she had one more account to add to this (albeit, small) list, and she felt nothing toward herself for it but pure embarrassment and sheer anger.

Smart girls didn't get themselves into these situations. This much she'd known ever since her mother had first ever told her so. The reason it didn't happen to smart girls was the fact that smart girls waited until they were _certain_ that they trusted and loved the person they were going to engage themselves to with both heart _and_ mind.

Harry and Hermione hadn't gotten engaged in the traditional sense of the word, no, but she _had_ felt those things that her mother had told her about toward him. How this had happened, she couldn't be sure, but she surely _was_ kicking herself over it now.

"Oh, don't look so down, Hermione. Everything's okay now, I swear it. I'll never leave you – neither you nor Harry – never, ever again."

Hermione kept quiet as she felt the tall, broad-shouldered redheaded young man she'd called her friend for years wrap his strong arms around her then, enveloping her in what she was sure he meant to be a comforting embrace. Little did Ron know, the Witch he now held felt anything but comforted by him, or by anything else.

His return had been unexpected, but had also been an utmost _perfected_ act in terms of timing, as he'd managed to save Harry from beneath a frozen-over pond. After _that_, an epic fight of will and mind-over-matter had occurred, all of which ultimately ended when Ron was able to overcome his insecurities and destroy the horcrux that had been haunting the trio for such a long, long time.

Merely a few days after the occurrence – and while Harry was out scanning the perimeter to make sure all was still, for the most part, well – Ron, who'd experienced nothing but a frosty demeanor from Hermione since his return, desperately desired to prove to her that he was completely remorseful for the way he'd acted.

Part of his plan to do so involved detailing to her the night in which he destroyed the horcrux.

As she now reluctantly returned Ron's embrace, Hermione inwardly gave a shudder, closing her eyes as she let her face become pressed into the ginger's chest, feeling simply grateful that he couldn't see her face and thereby possibly determine just how distressed she happened to be at the moment.

"_So it was like you, but it wasn't you . . . it was like a ghost – an apparition- and it wasn't only you, it was Harry, as well . . ."_

Fighting back the urge to cry now, the brown-eyed girl with messy, wavy locks of light brown hair – hair that she could feel Ron's fingers begin to stroke now – fought to not think about what he'd said to her, but she ultimately lost this inner battle.

"_So they were swirling about, and the ghost-you, she stepped forward and talked down to me, telling me how I'd never be _him_ – Harry that is, how I'd never be Harry. I mean, maybe it's sort of, well, embarrassing to admit now, but I'd had thoughts like that before. I always wondered that maybe you liked me, sure, but that maybe you liked Harry more . . ."_

It was true. All of this had been true, but Hermione hadn't said a word all the while Ron was explaining it to her. Part of this was due to her feeling that it would be unkind to simply confirm a long-time friend's inner fears and insecurities regarding himself, and another part of it was due to the fact that she still didn't feel like speaking to him at all anyway at that time.

Regardless, he'd continued on with his story for her.

"_. . . Well anyhow, ghost-Harry then kept on, as well. He said how he loved you, and how you loved him, and how I was – and always would be – second best to him - second-best, nothing more and nothing less. It was horrible, and I nearly believed it – the words filled up my ears, swam all around in my head . . . I was almost done for, and, well, Harry was almost done for, too, as far as destroying the horcrux was concerned, seeing as I was the one who had hold of the Sword of Gryffindor . . ."_

At this point, despite her desperate want to not speak to this boy who'd abandoned both her and Harry for such a long time, the story was coming to a climatic point, and so Hermione had scooted over just a bit closer, nearer to Ron. "What happened next?" she'd asked, before hearing something that would cause her heart to sink like a stone, right down to the bottom of her stomach.

"_Well, Hermione, it was Harry then - the real Harry, that is - who talked me down. He said to me not to fall for what I was hearing from the apparitions of the two of you. He said to me that you and he did love each other, but that it was like how a brother and sister love each other. He said there never had been anything between the two of you, and that you truly wanted . . . _me_ . . . you wanted me, and I just, it was somehow just enough - - I was able to destroy the horcrux once it'd been made clear that I'd just been imagining everything all along, you know?"_

After ending his story in this way, Ron had noticed the look of utmost shock on Hermione's face, and had just assumed that she was in a state of awe over how stupid he'd been all this time, to be so blind as to not see how she'd truly wanted him all along. So he'd then taken to hugging her, and to telling her how everything would be okay. He _had_ been stupid – completely out of line, out of _mind_ to leave her almost alone out in the woods over such a dumb, stupid, presumptuous matter of jealousy.

Hermione, on the other hand, found no comfort or certainty of anything in his words. She believed he meant what he was saying, sure, but it was a bit too unfortunate (both for herself and for Ron, really) that the thing she was so heavily focused on was what the redhead had claimed Harry to have said regarding himself and her.

They'd been together – in more ways than one. They belonged to each other in a way, he being her Harry, she being his Hermione – and now this? Now he told _Ron_ that they had love akin to a brother and sister and nothing _more_ than that?

Had she been completely out of her mind when she'd handed her heart over to her very best friend with such ease?

It had been a quite a while now since they'd sealed their relationship, in a manner of speaking – that night before Godric's Hollow. Hermione was adding up the precise amount of days, in fact, even as she stayed held within Ron's arms when Harry happened to step back into the tent just then.

Coming to a pause just a few steps in, the bespectacled young man stared over in the direction of his best mate clinging onto Hermione in such a way, and he felt a sinister chill slip down his spine. Moving in said arms, so that she could turn her face to look back at Harry, Hermione affixed him with a glare that seared itself permanently into his memory. Truly, Harry felt sure that he'd never forget that look for as long as he'd live.

"Hermione?" he said quietly, and she simply raised an eyebrow in response as she fought to keep her lower lip from quivering; keeping this pose for a few seconds, she eventually turned her face away again without saying a word, to instead bury her face back into Ron's chest once again.

"Sorry mate . . ." Ron said to the confused-looking Wizard then, his big hands gently moving up and down Hermione's back now as he spoke. "I told her all about the other night when I destroyed the horcrux. I think maybe I spooked her or something."

"I'm not spooked," Hermione mumbled into his chest, though tears were now stinging in her eyes as she again shifted her face to look back to Harry once again. "But I'm not okay either."

Swallowing down a rather large lump that formed in his throat as he thought back to his own experience that night with the frozen pond, the Sword, the Horcrux, and what he'd said to Ron, Harry at once realized the reasoning behind Hermione's harsh, unforgiving glare.

Even in realizing it though, what exactly was he supposed to _do_? Pull Hermione aside now – tell her the obvious? Tell her how he _had_ to talk Ron down or else everything would've been shot to hell and then some? Then what would Ron think? Surely he'd feel suspicious. _No, Ron, you were just paranoid about Hermione and I having feelings for each other – now excuse she and I as we go and talk about you behind your back - - no hard feelings or anything._ Yeah, right.

Stepping forward to approach both his friends, Harry outstretched a hand, placing it at Hermione's shoulder. She immediately flinched away from his touch. Stung, he slowly moved his hand away, before kneeling down, trying to become face-level with her.

"Hermione, I –"

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione said quietly, giving Harry one more, long and leering look, before turning her face away again, turning to Ron instead.

Slowly rising to a standing position, Harry shook his head slightly, before clearing this throat and saying, "Um, I'm just going to go back outside for a while."

"Are you sure you don't want me to take over keeping watch, Harry?" Ron asked him.

"Nah, Ron," Harry said in reply, not knowing how to fix the damage that he'd inadvertently caused. "Nah, that's okay."


	7. Chapter 7: Late

**Thanks again for reviews and all! Much appreciated, I promise!  
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><p>Harry and Hermione sat alone together on the grass of the lawn on the outskirts of the house Bill and Fleur lived at. The sun was just beginning to set in the far distance, and there was an aura of sadness all about. What the two of them (along with Ron, Griphook, and poor Dobby, amongst others) had just gone through really had been enough to rip the sanity right out of anybody, and yet here these two were, still sane, still together. Always – just Harry and just Hermione – naturally.<p>

As insane as things had been as of late, they hadn't really gotten the chance to be so, well, alone. While it had seemed that they'd both seemed to have had their fair bate of it while they _had_ been all alone for all that time beforehand, now that it was no longer the case, they both inwardly missed it. They just didn't say so.

"Hermione . . ." Harry began, pausing as he attempted to form the words he wanted to say in his head before allowing them to actually leave his mouth.

"_Harry_ . . ." Hermione said in return, aiming to postpone or interrupt him before he even began, but then she found her own self unable to figure out precisely what was needed to be said.

Alas, they both elapsed back into a simultaneous silence once more. Then, after another two moments had passed:

"Harry –"

"Hermione-"

Looking back at each other then, the pair exchanged slightly baffled and bemused looks for, perhaps, sixteen seconds at best, before cracking up, the pair of them beginning to laugh in the best, most uncontrollable way. It was one of those laughs that you both hate for aching your ribs so, but also love, because it lifts your mood, no matter how dreadful every single aspect of your life might happen to be at the moment.

After a nice long laugh of just this sort, the two friends eventually quieted down a bit, and, while Hermione gazed downward toward the shadow-cast ground, Harry took the opportunity to speak again.

"I didn't mean a single thing said to Ron that night he destroyed the horcrux. I had to talk him down or else. To be honest, I just sort of assumed you'd realize that, that all I'd said was a lie – that it'd, well, more or less go without saying . . ."

Giving a slight sort of half-nod, half-shrug herself, Hermione then bit down on her lip for a few seconds of hesitation, before finally answering Harry, "The thing is, of _course_ I knew you had been lying to Ron that night. I mean, when I first heard him tell me about it, sure – it caught me off guard, and it hurt. But soon enough, common sense caught up with me . . . so yeah, of course I ultimately knew you hadn't meant what you'd said to him about me and you being like brother and sister and all that other nonsense."

"Well . . ." Harry began to reply, pausing to sigh and contemplate what he'd just been told. "_Why_ then did you spend all this time angry with me – if you really knew I hadn't meant a word of what I'd said to Ron?"

"It's kind of complicated, I suppose, Harry," Hermione answered him, shifting a bit where she sat on the ground, straightening out her legs across the grass as she folded her arms across her sweater-covered bosom. "I found, in the end, that I wasn't angry because you did what had to be done _when_ it had to be done, but more just frustrated with the fact that, once all was clear and calm, you didn't confess the truth about us to Ron. I _get_ not being honest with him about his suspicions while he's in the middle of a battle for his own soul and everything – but _now_? Why have you not said anything _now_? More to the point, why haven't you _done_ anything toward me to suggest that you do still have feelings for me for certain?"

A bit of a pause met this. Harry was unsure of how to explain his actions and decisions to the girl sat beside him. They'd made sense enough at the time when he'd made them – the little decisions, that is – but now? Now _nothing_ made sense. _Now_ it seemed to be the case that Harry had likely accidently made everything somehow worse.

Firstly, he'd made his lie to Ron so real that he'd stopped treating Hermione as anything more than just a friend. Secondly, in doing that, he probably let Ron think he had a fair – no, scratch that – an all-out, perfect shot at scoring her as a girlfriend in the process. _Thirdly_, since everything was so far drawn out now, he certainly had no _easy_ way to undo all that had been so easily done-in in the first place, and fourthly, well, fourthly, Harry just felt like a great, big dolt regarding the whole thing.

Slowly moving his hand over, inch by inch, Harry finally found himself confident enough to place it atop Hermione's hand – that is to say, he finally felt confident enough by now that she wouldn't simply flinch, or jerk her hand away from him if he did it. As it so turned out, his confidence on the matter had been right. In return to feeling Harry's hand atop her own, Hermione had turned to look at him, a smile on her face.

"See?" she said simply. "This is what I've been missing."

"Me, too," Harry replied truthfully, cupping his hand over hers to give it a bit of a squeeze of sorts. "I still have no idea how I'm going to tell Ron, though. You didn't see his face, the way it contorted in pure rage at the idea of you and me being together the way the horcrux showed it to him."

Sighing, Hermione frowned slightly, feeling honestly sad about how she must have inadvertently been leading Ron on herself. True, she'd had real feelings for him once upon a time, and feelings like that never honestly died away – it was simply impossible. So, naturally, she felt her own fair share of guilt in having to now think of a way to break it to him, that she wanted Harry in the end, after all was said and done. In a way, it seemed almost _unfair_, though, only unfair when applied to Ron. In all other respects, it only made sense to Hermione that it had ultimately been Harry who'd truly won her heart at the end of things.

Ron was handsome, she thought to herself inwardly. He was also strong, friendly, and loyal enough – he'd make a respectable husband for a lucky girl – just not she herself, not the way she saw it, anyway.

Likewise, Harry was thinking about his best mate, and how he hated the thought of cheating him in any way, including the so-called adage of quote-unquote getting the girl, but he honestly loved Hermione. He couldn't just pass that up or pretend it wasn't so just for Ron's sake. Ron had had his fair share of female admiration in his Sixth Year at Hogwarts, after all. He was hardly a hopeless case. Ron would find a girl suited best for him, just as Harry felt that Hermione was quite well suited for himself.

Almost as if reading each other's thoughts, Harry and Hermione then glanced back at each other, the two now holding hands in earnest as they exchanged a smile.

"We should really tell him as soon as we get a proper chance to," the latter said, to which the former replied, "You're right, Hermione. I'm just not sure what qualifies as a proper moment."

"A proper moment for what," asked a voice then, causing Harry and Hermione to release hands and edge away from each other in as discreet a way as possible. "What are you guys talking about?"

It was Ron who had wandered out to be with his friends there on the lawn, and as he took a seat on the grass between the pair of them, Harry found himself lost in a flurry of worried thoughts. How was he going to tell Ron? When exactly would he be able to confess the extent of the relationship that he honestly had with their Hermione? Would she and he both tell Ron together? How was he going to react, then? What if he freaked out? What if he went mental and left the group yet _again_?

On the other side of the ginger, sitting now with her knees drawn up to her chest, Hermione rested her chin on said knees, her arms wrapping around her legs as a torrent of very similar, worrisome thoughts flooded through her own mind, as well. There was, however, one extra little troublesome thought present; it was one she _knew_ wouldn't be on Harry's mind – not unless he'd been taken hyper-effective Divination lessons on the sly.

As it was, along with the thoughts of _would Ron over-react? Would Ron go on a rampage and attack Harry? _and _would it tear apart their friendship for good?_ was one other tiny question, and though she'd rather not think about it, as with most things that tended to press on her mind, this proved positively impossible to do.

All the same, just to be extra, _extra_ certain, the witch found herself counting back to the day she and Harry had spent together before going on to Godric's Hollow together. When the math was all summed together, she inwardly sighed, for she had come up with the same number as she had done the other four times she'd paused, worried, and re-counted that very same day; never even _mind_ all the re-counting and double-checking she'd done altogether over the past two _weeks_.

Standing up without saying a word, Hermione turned, almost robotically, and headed on for the inside of the house on the hill. She slipped off her shoes as she entered into the main hall, before quietly making her way to the kitchen. As she'd expected to, she found Fleur there, sitting at the dainty little kitchen table, apparently lost in contemplating her own thoughts at the moment.

"Is it alright if I join you?" Hermione asked her tentatively.

"Yes, of course," Fleur answered at once, giving her a smile and motioning for her to take a seat next to her at the table. "Take ah' seat."

"Thank you," the witch replied politely, indeed sitting herself in the chair near to Fleur.

Giving Hermione a look-over, the Beauxbatons graduate could tell at once that something was off about her, even if she didn't honestly know her all _that_ well.

"'Vat 'ees wrong?" she asked of her.

Taking in a large, deep breath, Hermione slowly let it out, before looking back at the fellow witch, locking eyes with her as she said in the most frightened voice she'd ever mustered in all her life, "Well, Fleur, the thing is . . . that I . . . I think that I might be pregnant."


	8. Chapter 8: Bombshells

**(A/N **Up until now, I've obviously tried to tie in this fan fiction w the stations of canon as much as possible. In this chapter it starts to majorly deviate from the canon. I don't mean people go OOC, I mean that the story goes to a place that cannot fit in with the canon as it was signed, sealed & delivered, epliogue & all considered. Just noting this. And thanks again to all who read and/or review - much appreciation for you guys!)

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><p>Wide-eyed as she looked back to her husband, the slender, long-haired blond girl from the Delacour family spoke in hushed tones as she said to him: "Of <em>course<em> I aim being serious! 'Ermione came to me 'airlier today and said to me she fears she might be with _child_!"

"Fleur, _really_?" Billy Weasley replied back, for at least the fourth time since he'd first heard this revelation from his young wife; at this, she crossed her arms and stomped her foot against the floor of their bedroom.

"Ah' you calling me a liar?" she demanded to know, and Bill began waving his hands back and forth before himself at once.

"No, no, of course not – of course you're not a liar. I'm just so, so _surprised_."

"'_Vell_, young people do these things, I do not see vhy exactly you ah' so surprised, William." She then added in a whisper, "_Ve_ _did these same things, also, keep 'en mind, whes'er we were yet married or not._"

Blushing a bit at being called out in such a way, the eldest Weasley son then shook his head, clarifying, "I'm not surprised or shocked out of my mind that Hermione would, well, you know? It's just kind of a big deal, timing-wise. The Dark Lord's taken over, we're all in a battle against him for once and for all – she's one of the Dark Lord's sworn enemy's _closest friends_ and now she's potentially preggers. Sorry – but _that_ kind of came as a shock to me, Fleur, yes!"

"'Vell it 'vas a shock to me, also – don't think it was not! I'm just not sure 'ow to 'andle the situation! Is she fit for going on now – to travel onwards with 'Arry and Ronald?"

"I – I don't even know – _look_, let's just make _sure_ she's _definitely_ . . . pregnant . . . before we even go any further with worrying about this. Uh, it's probably in one of our old text books of potions – the test to find out, wouldn't you think?"

"Yes, 'vell, I 'appen to know the potion already," Fleur then admitted, a bit of a blush on her face.

"What?" Bill replied flatly. "Wait. You aren't . . .?"

"_No_! Of course I'd have already told you a thing like tha't, William!" the blond replied with a frown, pushing him lightly on the forearm. "Don't be so silly!"

"_Sorry_, I'm just still in a state of . . . whatever I'm in a state of – over all this – er, just let's go brew the potion and have her drink it and see what happens."

"Yes, good idea," Fleur agreed, before taking her husband by the hand and guiding him toward the kitchen.

Once the pair arrived, they found that Hermione was not the only one present at the kitchen table. Sat across from a very weary-looking Witch were her two best friends, each sat with a plate of cheese and bread before them, as they snacked and talked animatedly betwixt themselves.

"I mean, it's understandable that the Quidditch Finals have been put off in light of everything being a state of . . . peril," Ron said, before taking a bite of bread and saying, "But s'rsl'y, giv' a chap _some_ kind've ent'r'tainment." After this, the ginger promptly began to choke.

Sighing as she lazily pointed her wand at Ron's throat and murmured the charm to clear his windpipe, Hermione then said in quite an annoyed, snappish tone of voice, "What have I always _told_ you about talking with your mouth full?"

"Jeez, I know it gets on your nerves, but you don't have to sound like my _mother_ when you scold me, do you, Hermione?" Ron replied, before adding – almost as if in after-thought – "Oh, and thank you for saving my life, by the way."

Looking fit to un-save Ron's life right then and there, Hermione affixed him with a glare that – if looks could've killed – likely would've been comparable to the _Avada Kedavra _curse. However, she said nothing, biting her tongue to keep from doing so as she instead proceeded to twiddle her fingers, dropping her gaze toward them, as if her fingernails were suddenly highly fascinating objects to her.

Hesitating in the doorway, Fleur gave Bill an imploring look, one that – while silent – was clearly asking him to do something – anything – to rid the kitchen of the boys.

"Er, Ron – Harry –" he then said, clasping his hands together before himself. "Speaking of Quidditch, why don't we go out in the back and speak about games past."

"Why do we have to go outside to do that?" Harry asked blankly.

"Oh, just to, you know, get some fresh air," Bill sufficiently replied.

"We just came in from getting fresh air-" Ron then began to point out, but Fleur rolled her eyes and spoke up, interrupting him to say, "Please, do go vith William outside. I need to speak vith 'Ermione. Alone."

Though Harry got the message due to the French woman's tone of voice, and stood up from the table at once, Ron didn't quite get it, and it took a light elbow to the rib _from_ Harry for him to indeed grasp the point, at which time he then stood up, as well.

"We'll just be outside with . . . Bill, then," Harry said in a slightly awkward tone of voice, feeling confused – looking confused – but not willing to question the lady of house's word further on the matter as he followed the two Weasley brothers on outside.

Sighing in relief as she heard her front door open and close after the three men, Fleur then stepped further on into the kitchen. "I take it Griphook is still in 'is room?"

"Yes – I haven't seen him all day," Hermione answered her.

"Very well then – I _think_ 'zhat you and I should do _'ees_ to go and brew up a potion to determeen if you ah' indeed pregnant."

Nodding her head, though her face seemed to almost pale at the thought, Hermione quickly stood up from the table, as well. "I agree. It's best to find out now and get it over with. You have all the ingredients necessary? I have to admit, I've never brewed a potion like this before."

"'Vell, luckily I 'ave," Fleur said, to which Hermione cocked her own head to the side, saying, "_Fleur_, you aren't pregnant – are you?"

Sighing in an aggravated fashion, Fleur gave a hefty shrug of her shoulders, flicking her head in a motion that flipped her hair back behind her shoulders in the process. "_No_, I am _not_ pregnant," she said, before adding darkly, "I _am_ going to be throwing away thees' shirt though."

Coughing, Hermione glanced to the side, before saying, "_Well_, shall we get along with brewing the potion then, Fleur?"

"Certainly," she replied with a curt nod, before reaching forward and taking hold of Hermione's hand. "Come weeth me – there's a stock of things in the cellar."

Following on after her, Hermione continued on all the way to the door that would lead to a base that led down a path of stairs into the basement of the home. It was dark, dusty, and smelled greatly of mildew. However, once Fleur reached for a string switch above her head to turn on an ancient, Muggle light bulb that hung questionably from the ceiling, that the cellar itself was not vacant nor molded over, but quite put to use, as it was full of shelves on all sides.

Stepping down from the last creaky step and onto the cold, hard floor, Hermione folded her arms to fend off some of the chilliness as she looked around to inspect the contents upon the many, many rows of shelves further. There was almost any ingredient one could think of present, and it impressed her greatly.

"We 'ave to be prepared, you know?" Fleur said, smiling slightly as she noticed the look of amazement on Hermione's face. "At thees' point, anything could happen, we suppose . . . better to be safe 'zan sorry."

"Oh, I agree – I agree completely. It's astonishing but wonderful that all this is down here, just in case," Hermione agreed, inwardly hoping that the situation would remain always and forever one of 'just in case'.

"Let's _see_. . ." Fleur said, scanning the rows of a certain shelf with her eyes. "'Ve need _thees'_ and also _'zat_, and 'zat, as well . . ."

After a few moments, Fleur had gathered a small number of select items in her arms, and gave her head a nod in the direction of the staircase that would lead back up. "Come now –'ve can brew it in 'ze kitchen."

Out in the yard behind the house, Bill, his brother and Harry, had just finished discussing a particularly grand Quidditch match that had happened at Hogwarts itself in years past, when Charlie Weasley, as well as Bill himself were, in fact, playing for the Gryffindor team.

"Those were the days . . ." Bill said fondly, before frowning slightly and saying, "I've, in the past, come to miss my Hogwarts days from time to time, sure, but now that I know the way it's being run, it's somehow even sadder."

Looking down toward the ground as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, Ron gave a solemn nod of his head. "True. I can't imagine a Hogwarts run by Snape."

"The last time I had any word from Ginny on the matter, it was an absolute nightmare that she's, for the most part, glad to be away from," Bill noted, and Ron nodded, before saying himself, "If it weren't for wanting to help keep the D.A. remnants together, she wouldn't think twice about being happy to not be there, for sure."

Looking over to Harry, Ron then spoke again. "I'm still torn, though, really. While Snape is a nightmare, so is Aunt Muriel. And while it's relatively safe at her house, maybe Hogwarts would still be safer somehow. On either account, I'm sorry, Harry, if I've compromised Ginny in any way as you see it, since all hell broke lose for the family after His side realized I was on the run with you."

Looking thoroughly nonplussed, Harry said, "Well, I never really thought of it that way. But why are you apologizing anyway?"

Blinking, Ron said, "Well, if you maybe, somehow, in some way, managed to possibly put Hermione in harm's way, I'd be a little miffed with you about it."

Still appearing blank-faced on the matter, Ron added, "You know, since a guy should be miffed if someone blunders up his girlfriend's safety."

"Ginny's not my girlfriend," Harry said at once, earning sharp and scrutinizing looks from both Bill and Ron; however, Bill then broke out into a grin.

"_Oh_, right – because of the whole fact of the matter that a girlfriend of _the_ Harry Potter would be more of a target for the Dark Lord, you left her," as Bill said the word 'left', he made quotation mark motions with his fingers.

"Er . . . well, I consider it to be the case that, _actually_ . . ." Harry started to say, but he ultimately trailed off into nothing, for he wasn't at all sure on what exactly to say or indeed how to say it.

Frowning harder still, Ron said, "_Hang on_, if you _really_ consider yourself to be split up from Ginny, then _why_ were you letting her snog you before the on your birthday? And _why_ was she winking at you at the wedding itself?"

"I didn't consider it that way _then_, Ron! But recent events –"

"Recent events?" Ron said, interrupting him. "What recent events? You've been all off in the middle of nowhere with me and Hermione! How could you have come to a conclusion about whether or not to be with Ginny without Ginny being with you in the first place?"

Looking perturbed to a high degree, Harry was saved from explanation then by the appearance of Fleur, who'd at some point stepped outside and walked around to the side of the house.

"William!" she called out, her arms crossed over her bosom. "Boys! Please come back to the 'ouse now . . . something needs to be said."

"_That_ wasn't ominous or anything," Bill muttered, though not so loudly that his wife caught word of it, before following on after Ron and Harry, who'd already begun to walk toward her, though as they walked there was an awkward, somewhat distanced stance between them; it was understandable, he figured, considering the strange half-conversation that had just been had, still – the eldest Weasley brother didn't want to deal with a conflict at the moment - the idea of a _pregnancy_ was still being processed.

And so the three men followed Fleur back into the house wordlessly, keeping after her all the way into the kitchen, where they found Hermione, who was standing now by the table, rather than sitting. She was biting down rather hard on her bottom lip, and her hands were behind her back.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked her, a bit disgruntled still by being put on the spot about Ginny, and now feeling disgruntled further by Hermione's strange and suspicious appearance.

Hermione gave him a nod, which was paused half-way in, before transforming into a slight shake, which ultimately become a half-shrug. Harry was rendered confused, and that's an improvement to the absolute baffled state Ron found himself in as he watched her actions. "Hermione, what's going on?" he then asked her, since her response to Harry had been anything but clear.

"Er . . . well . . ." was all she said, before averting her eyes toward the floor, falling silent.

"Oh, come now - you 'ave to say _somezing_!" Fleur said to her in an exasperated fashion.

"Now, now, no she doesn't – not if she's not ready to say something," Bill said, for he himself was not ready to hear what he suspected the answer was going to be.

"_William_ – you ah' not 'elping – oh, for ze love of all things 'oly! _ Mon ostie de saint-sacrament de câlice de crisse_!"

"Calm down, Fleur," Bill implored her, turning to place his hands at either side of her arms. "Please, my beautiful, darling-"

"Oh, as _'eef_ trying to charm me will change the situa_tion_!"

"What situation – what is going on here exactly?" Harry demanded to know, before looking back to Hermione, whom he suspected was the source of whatever this commotion was. "Hermione?"

"I – the thing is –" she began, before heaving a few breaths, as if she might be sick; her eyes then proceeded to roll back into her head, and she fell forward, appearing to be completely unconscious.

Luckily, Ron was able to duck down and catch her before she hit the floor, but even so, as he slowly lifted her in his arms as he stood up, he and Harry both looked over to Fleur and Bill, suspicious and almost angry looks on their faces.

"What's with her?" Ron asked, nodding his head down in the direction of the girl in his arms.

"Please, do tell," Harry then added. "If something's wrong with Hermione, I want to know."

"Oh, 'vy can she not tell you 'erself?" Fleur exclaimed, looking thoroughly confused as to what to do next as she looked over to Bill, who wasn't any better advice-wise at the moment.

"Tell us _what_?" Harry and Ron repeated simultaneously then, in rather louder, more commanding voices.

Stirring in Ron's arms, Hermione blinked a few times, before murmuring, "Why're you both yelling? Ron – why are you holding me?"

"Sorry – next time you faint I suppose I should let you hit the floor," he replied sarcastically.

"I fainted? Oh, oh _great_. I'm sorry . . ."

"Don't be sorry. Of course I wouldn't let you _really_ fall to the floor."

"I know, I know, Ron. I'm okay now, just go ahead and put me back down to the floor now," the witch said to him, before repeating when he did not do so, "_Ron_, go ahead and put me down. I'm _fine_."

"I don't think you are fine. You fainted. Go on – do tell – what's going on? First Fleur ordered us all out, _then_ she ordered us back in, _then_ you fainted, Hermione," Ron said to her, before finally, gently, tipping her in his arms, so that her feet reached the floor as he let her go.

"Ron's right – something's clearly up," Harry then said, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I can tell it's something big, otherwise, well, you wouldn't be so hesitant to tell us whatever it is, would you? But it's _us_, Hermione. You can tell_ us_ what's going on, no matter how crazy it might be."

Hesitating just seconds longer, Hermione finally gave in to an extent, and she leant forward, placing her chin against the front of Harry's shoulder, so that her whispered voice spoke directly to him and him alone as she gave him her secret.

"Really?" he asked aloud in response to hearing her whispered confession, before waiting intently for her whispered confirmation, which came a few seconds later. "Wow."

Looking quite angry and disturbed that his two best friends were sharing something with each other and purposely leaving him out, a wide-eyed Ron shook his head in incredulity, before saying, "If someone doesn't tell me _what's _going on, I'm likely to pop a blood vessel."

"I'm pregnant, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, leaning away from Harry as she did so, so as to not shout directly into his ear.

Looking as stunned as if Hermione had pulled a wand on him and used an Unforgivable Curse, Ron stood frozen still for a number of seconds, unblinking – unmoving.

" . . . Ron?" Harry dared to say a full moment later.

"_You_," the ginger replied simply, before making a quick fist and throwing it blindly forward, coming into contact with his best mate's face.


	9. Chapter 9: A Mixing of the Signals

Fleur was quite baffled, if the truth was to be told.

After all, when you're raised to exhibit poise and grace at most times (unless otherwise taunted by someone into a different state of mind, of course) you're not exactly used to having silly boys brawling right in the middle of your kitchen floor. On the other hand (and relating more to the "it's okay if you've been taunted" rule) Fleur supposed that she couldn't exactly _blame_ her youngest brother-in-law for the reaction he'd had to what he'd just been told.

Poise and grace _and_ timing – yes – it wouldn't have hurt Hermione to take some lessons in the three necessaries involved when divulging a bombshell to loved ones, either.

As it was, Fleur didn't have the heart to lecture the poor girl at the moment, considering that Hermione was currently standing beside Bill, hands covering her face in utter shame as her shoulders shook; clearly, she was crying hysterically. _Poor 'zing_, Fleur thought to herself, and as she did so, she looked over to her husband to find him biting down on his own bottom lip, exhibiting a struggle to keep his own composure.

_Oui, my William 'as always been quite sensitive, even if he does not care to show eet at all times._

Little did Mrs. Delacour-Weasley know that her husband was biting his lip to keep from laughing – and that even Hermione herself was not lost in a fit of hysterics, but of hysterical laughter – it was a fact that very much necessitated her to cover up her face. Fleur - Hermione could tell - was on the verge of tears after all, clearly distraught at all that had unfolded in the past couple of minutes alone.

Why was she _herself_ laughing? Oh, Hermione had no idea. Just barely pregnant and already, she felt like a mad woman. _Oh great. I'm going to become positively insane, aren't I?_

Then promptly feeling the laughter roll over into a legitimate state of crying at last, Hermione murmured to herself, "_No_, forget _becoming_ – I'm already there!"

His cheek and eye twitching, Bill closed his eyes, unwittingly feeling disgust from Fleur's point of view (certainly, she'd never have suspected suppressed laughter from him at a time like this!), all the while as Hermione's hotly tempered announcement to his little brother replayed over and over again in his mind. Oh, how Hermione had sounded so _uncannily_ like his own mother when she, too, happened to be annoyed with Ron. It was so unintentionally hilarious that Bill could easily understand how Hermione (who'd initially been crying her eyes out) was now in a fit of hysterical laughter (or so he assumed).

In the middle of the floor, Ron and Harry were each in pathetic states their own selves. A tangle of limbs, the two best mates each felt too tired to keep fighting, but also too proud to give in to each other and ask for a truce of some sort.

_What will Hermione think if I just give up?_ Harry thought to himself, even as Ron landed another half-hearted blow to the side of his face. _She might think I don't care enough to defend us being together to Ron or something crazy like that . . ._

_What will Hermione think if I just give in?_ Ron was also currently thinking to his own self, even as Harry flipped them both over in a lazy fashion, so that the Boy Who Lived to Often Sport Lopsided Spectacles had more control and leverage in the fight. _Will she think that I don't care enough to pummel Harry to pieces for what he's gone and done to her?_

Peeking through her fingers to watch whatever was going on in the floor before her, for it no longer resembled an actual fight, Hermione found herself fighting back the urge to laugh again.

"O, _William_, is the rest of your fa'milee going to react in 'zis same manner to 'ze news of the pregnancy?" Fleur demanded to know from her husband then, a thunderous look in her eyes.

"Oh _God_," Hermione suddenly whimpered aloud, her indistinguishable laughter stopping immediately; After all, she figured, that time in Fourth Year when Mrs. Weasley had reacted to Rita Skeeter's fake headlines about Harry Potter and his Witch of Constant Companionship and Heartbreak had been bad – never even mind how she might react to _this_!

Hermione was soon in tears of worry again, and it was quite befitting, really, for Bill had also finally succumbed to crying as he stood there beside her, all because one of the flailing kicks Ron had just tried to land had hit the dainty beige refrigerator behind him, jarring it so much so that Fleur's favorite refrigerator magnet had fallen off and shattered against the floor beneath it, into a hundred tiny pieces.

Affixing herself with a most serious expression, Fleur observed her husband's tears and thought to herself, _Oh, 'ow beautiful my 'usband is with hees sense of emotion and empathy . . ._

Noticing the serious look on his wife's face, Bill thought to_ him_self,_ Oh God, she's going to divorce herself from being a Weasley at all, isn't she?_

And so the chaos continued on, despite how silly and irredeemably pathetic the alleged fist fight had since grown. Flailing about with much lethargy and great inconsideration for Fleur's refrigerator magnet collection, Ron and Harry both felt unsure of how to end what they'd started in the first place - _This_, despite the both of them very much wanting to end it, so that they could instead offer comfort to the crying Hermione, neither of them realizing that she currently shed tears of laughter.

"Crazy Eenglish folk," Fleur finally muttered beneath her breath, before crossing her arms and turning to leave the kitchen altogether.

Poor Bill, unsure of whether or not it was wise to follow after her at present time, swallowed hard, shaking his own head as he solemnly thought, _I'm in trouble. I'm English folk, too._

Fleur, he then sadly considered as he heard his wife leave the house altogether, may have already been on her way to find a Wizarding divorce attourney.


	10. Chapter 10: Heart to Hearts

**A/N: In a previous chapter, I referred to the infirmary as an apothecary. I apologize. Typos and mind-glitches happen to everyone sometimes. Thank you to the reviewer who pointed it out.  
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><p>Hermione sat alone in the room she'd been sleeping in when she felt tired during her stent at Bill and Fleur's cottage, which - as of late - was quite a lot of the time, in fact. It wasn't all due to any one factor. Several things had led to it. The pregnancy was a factor, certainly, but so wasn't the fact that she'd just gone through a torrent of questionable crimes, and all while being in the stressful state of being on the run.<p>

A knock at the door came later on in the same afternoon that had brought about the pregnancy spell, the confession, and the ensuing fight between Harry and Ron, she said nothing when she heard said knock at her door. She didn't want to be bothered with answering questions which were shot at her in such a fashion that she felt as if she were being interviewed. When she failed to respond after a few more knocks, Hermione heard Ron's voice speak.

"Maybe she's asleep again, Harry."

"Maybe," she could hear Harry answer in reply. "I hope she's okay. We were both stupid to fight in front of her like we did."

"It was stupid – that's true," Ron agreed, and then there came a sound of light thumping against the lower part of the door.

When it happened a second time, Hermione looked over toward the door's direction and felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. They were obviously sat against the door, waiting for her to wake up from the assumed sleep. Slipping down from the bed and tip-toeing over to the inside of the door, Hermione herself gently sat down to the carpeted floor, cautiously leaning her head back to rest against a door panel in such a quiet way that, evidently, neither Harry nor Ron picked up on it; this was evidenced by the fact that they did not pause their conversation.

"I'm sorry for punching you, Harry. I shouldn't have, I reckon. I guess it just felt like a blow in its own right, what she said to me. I mean, you convinced me that the horcrux was wrong about you and Hermione, but then you kept on answering weirdly concerning my questions about Ginny . . ."

"I felt put on the spot about it," Harry replied. "It came out of nowhere, the subject of your sister. I knew I couldn't explain about why things just weren't going to work out with Ginny unless I also explained how I feel about Hermione. I guess, to me, it seemed wrong to just blurt out that actually, _yes_, I _do _love Hermione, and not like a sister or just as a friend. I found it wrong to declare it to you and Bill both, as well, instead of telling just you first, one-on-one, or else with Hermione."

"Thank you for wanting to soften the blow, but I guess there was no real way to do that. _'I'm pregnant, Ron!'_ she tells me, and first I'm confused. I'm confused because she was alone with you and only you, for _ages_. _Then_ it hits me: _she was with you_."

"So you let me it hit me, too. I can understand," Harry replied, absentmindedly rubbing at his nose as he spoke (it had since been repaired with a quick, good enough _Episkey_ spell, but was still quite sore). "I just wish it hadn't had such an outcome – that little fight of sorts we had. Bill's off looking for Fleur now; if Griphook had wanted to come socialize with us, then I'm sure he doesn't want to _now_, after all that. Hermione herself now even, why she's locked herself in the room and is not letting us in at all. I feel awful about it."

"So do I," Ron agreed, before leaning his head back against the door a bit too enthusiastically. "_Ow_!"

"Don't shout – you're going to wake up Hermione and she needs to rest."

"All she does is rest," Ron pointed out, a sour look on his face as he rubbed at the back of his head. "She's been locked in this room all afternoon since the fight. I think she's just avoiding us."

"Well, I guess we _did_ brawl in front of her like a pair of avoidable-at-all-cost idiots," Harry said.

"Yeah; I'm surprised Bill didn't knock our heads together for it," Ron returned.

"Eh, Fleur might have lost it and hexed us all to hell if it looked like Bill was joining in on the fight too, though, Ron."

"Fair point, Harry – fair point."

On the other side of the door, Hermione broke out into a grin when the sound of Ron and Harry bursting out into laughter filled her ears.

"Poor Bill," Ron was saying in-between laughs. "Poor guy, going around mumbling about divorces just because Fleur took off out the front door."

Also still laughing, Harry said, "Well if she needed proof that we're all barking mad, then Fleur sure got to see it firsthand tonight."

Sighing as his laughter faded away, Ron was quiet for a moment, before saying, "You know, the thing is, Harry, I don't doubt that you love Hermione. But it still feels like I was, I dunno, kicked in the chest, getting all the wind knocked out of me."

Frowning in a guilt-ridden way, Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Look Ron, I understand. I can't imagine how you feel. You must be so angry with me – I lied to you not all that long ago, after all. I mean, sure, I did it so you could defeat the horcrux, but I still feel bad about continuing to keep the truth about me and Hermione from you for so long. Hermione and I have been trying to think of how to tell you – honestly, we have."

"I believe you. You and Hermione are my best friends, Harry. I know no-one was trying to hurt me. Still, it kind of feels like a blow to the chest – it feels, I suppose, kind've hollow inside. It makes me think of the time I found out she'd kissed Victor Krum, only times one-hundred." After saying this, the redhead gave a wry, bitter sort of laugh. "_Viktor_ – that all seems so silly to me, now that I think about it. Of course she'd go with you, Harry - Viktor was never a real option for her, and as for me? Maybe I always fought with her too much. Maybe I backed away when I should've stood up. Maybe . . ."

As Ron's words drifted off into nothingness, Harry said to him, "If not me, it would have been you. It just – things just _happened_ between me and Hermione. I mean, you didn't see the fling with Lavender coming, though it had all the impact of an oncoming freight train. We made it through that in the end – through all the jealousy and mind games – we're still the best of friends, me, you and Hermione."

"That's true," Ron said. "Even if I do feel out of sorts over this whole thing - maybe even a little like I've lost my mind at the moment - nothing's coming between the three of us and our friendship ever again – not after all that we just went through. I learned my lesson finally – walking out on you both is the worst thing I could've ever done and I'm glad to be back, for good."

"For good," Harry repeated back, and on the other side of the door, nothing could've wiped away the broad and bright smile on Hermione's face.

"You guys-!" she called out through the door, loudly enough that they could hear her.

"Hermione?" they called back in unison, before moving to stand up and move away from the door as Hermione, too, stood up on the inside of the room.

Another moment later and she had pulled the door open, revealing that she seemed to be on the verge of tears as she beamed back at Ron and Harry. There was a few second's pause, and then the young woman had rushed forward, commencing a group hug with her best friends.

"I'm sorry to have put you both through another issue to work through, but I'm so glad you just worked things out in the end anyway."

"So you were eavesdropping," Ron said. "I should've guessed."

"Oh, don't be silly. I'm glad I was nosy this one time," Hermione said, the three-way hug still ongoing.

"Yes, it was quite nosy," Ron agreed, though the tone of his voice was playful.

"Ruin this moment for me and I'll hex you," Hermione replied in a sweet but calculated voice; Ron dropped the teasing at once.

"I'm glad we're all okay now, for the most part," Harry said, before flinching along with Ron and Hermione as a loud sound was heard coming from downstairs.

The hug breaking apart, Ron said, "Maybe we should go see what caused that noise."

"You just toppled ov'air 'ze 'ole refrigerator, William – 'ow _clumsy_!" Fleur was then heard shrieking. "_Au revior, magnets_!"

Second-thinking the idea to go downstairs just then, Ron stayed put and muttered, "At least she didn't say, 'Au revior, _marriage_.'"


End file.
